


Welcome Home

by twii2ted_8333335



Series: Prostitute Stan AU [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Reunions, Gen, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Past Prostitution, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reunions, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Twincest, Unresolved Tension, prostitution talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twii2ted_8333335/pseuds/twii2ted_8333335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each time, when the shakes subdued, Stan would cling to Ford a little tighter and whisper "thanks, Ford," before slipping back into sleep. </p><p>Each time, Ford would give him another forehead kiss and whisper back, "Any time, Lee."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case you missed the tags, there is some homophobia in this. it's somewhat brief, just one slur (which doesn't make it any better but I'm just saying)   
> This one got a lot more serious than the other's and I'm not sure how honestly but that's that   
> Just be careful okay?

Sneaking Stanley back into New Jersey was not as hard as it was to convince him to go home in the first place. Ford was not going to let his twin just stay at his apartment while both him and Fiddleford were away for the holidays though — especially not when Ford could afford to bring Stan along with him. 

"Pa told me not to come back until I'd made us the millions I cost us," the younger brother had argued.

"Maybe you haven't made millions, but I'll bet you've made more than I have, working as hard as you did at your old job," Stan would forever love that Ford didn't hesitate or flinch when he spoke about his past now. It was nice to talk about it like it was normal. "And you do make a pretty penny working at the diner now too. It's not millions but it's... improvement. Please, Stanley, just give it a shot."

He did. And once they were in the familiar town he'd once called home, he immediately regretted his decision. His stomach was twisting in knots and he could feel the sweat clinging to his brow and his cheeks and even his back. He was tempted to tell Ford to just turn around and drop him off near a motel or something and go to their parents' on his own, but every time he looked over at his brother he was given a reassuring smile and a steady pat to his thigh that melted his fears for a few more minutes.

When they arrived, Stan wondered if he'd even be recognized. His face had lost the round baby fat his mother adored and his hair was still grown out from his months on the street. Ford had made him take a shower before they left so he was at least clean and they'd bought a few nice clothes before they'd left. Smooth black slacks and a plaid button down. He still had his hat and his fuzz lined coat — both also freshly washed — but the feel of foreign clothes was still fresh in his mind. He tried focusing on that instead of the reason why he had the clothes in the first place. 

Six fingers knocked on their front door. 

"Christ, I can't hear anything over my heart."

"It'll be okay, Stanley." The finger's previously on the door twined with his own and squeezed his sweaty hand. 

A sliver of light shone as the door opened.

"I'm gonna be sick." 

Another squeeze and a soft "shh" were followed by the door fully opening, revealing their mother in her usual red dress and heavy make up. His breathing stilled as her eyes found Stanford's and she greeted him with all the love in the world, going in for a hug. When she pulled back, she looked to Stanley, obviously intending on just shaking his hand or nodding. And then something seemed to click. She recognized him beneath the long hair and new look.

"Stanley?" 

He exhaled finally. "H-hey, Ma."

"Oh my — " Her thin arms were around him before he could blink, holding onto him tightly. His own arms circled her back, fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. He could feel the tears dripping onto his chest, probably staining his jacket with mascara. 

"When'd you get so small, Ma?" He whispered and God, he could hear the tremble in his voice just like he could feel her shaking in his grip. 

"When you got this big, strong jaw of yours," she pulled back a little, running her petit hands over his face. She smiled softly when she pinched his cheeks and found a little bit of fat still. "You became a man while you were gone." 

Stanley sniffled, wiping a new tear from his mother's face. "Yeah, well... I'm still your little free spirit." 

"Oh, now you're going to make _me_ cry," Ford piped up, rubbing at his eye under his glasses. 

"That ain't hard to do, Poindexter."

"Lee!" 

They all shared a soft laugh, the twins helping to fix their mother back up before entering the house. They were hit by the familiar smell of her cooking, something Stan missed greatly since he'd been kicked out, and it actually made his mouth water. "Oh man, mama, what's for dinner? It smells amazing."

"Just a simple chicken tonight. We'll be picking up a goose tomorrow when the store opens for a bit. Filbrick said to wait 'til Christmas day so that it's fresh as fresh can be." Her boys nodded as she took their coats, unsure of how to address any information about their father. Stan could feel the nervous coil in his stomach returning and even Ford could feel it now. 

Their father was sitting in his usual spot in front of the TV, clearly waiting for when dinner was ready. He looked nearly the same as those years ago, though his cheeks sagged a little more and Stan would bet that there were more wrinkles under his eyes beneath those glasses of his. 

Ma cleared her throat, "Filbrick, I think you may want to get up to greet our guests."

"Why?" Came the gruff response. He didn't even budge. Stanley's heart leapt into his throat, drowning out the noise again. "It's just Stanford. If he wants to talk, we'll talk over dinner."

Ford frowned at that. He knew his father's views on him had changed since he'd been forced to go to Backupsmore and when he broke the news that he likely wasn't getting a girlfriend any time soon, but he'd never heard the man dismiss him so casually. It gave him a small, hollow feeling beneath his ribs. 

"Filbrick, I really do think you should greet out _guests_ ," she emphasized the "s" on the end this time, hoping her husband would be kind enough to listen to her for once. 

At first, there was no response. Then Filbrick grunted and stood, grumbling under his breath as he approached his boys. 

He greeted Stanford with a firm handshake, as usual, and Ford nodded. He kept his eyes trained on his father's face even though he wanted nothing more than to stare at the ground. Then came the hard part. Their father turned to Stanley and seemed to study him for a minute. He looked over the nice clothes, the clean shoes, the long hair; Stan could barely keep still as he was scrutinized. 

Like with his mother, something clicked in Filbrick's head. Unlike her, his expression turned into that of a scowl. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" 

Stan deflated. He knew he wouldn't be welcome and he knew he should've just stayed at a motel and he _knew_ and still he'd hoped. He'd hoped maybe there'd be an ounce of forgiveness to give. 

That didn't mean he wasn't going to still stand his ground. He was here now and whether or not his father wanted him, he was staying.

Stan folded his arms over his chest, trying to make himself look, or at least feel, bigger. "I'm tryna spend the holidays with my family." 

"I told you not to come back here."

"Yeah? Well I'm telling you to suck it up and deal."

"Stanley..." Ford's whisper warned him to keep his cool, but he ignored it. 

"No, Ford, I'm not gonna let him do this. I'm not letting him kick me to the curb again, 'specially not tonight. I worked my ass to the bone to get money for these itchy as all hell clothes, and to pay for my half of the ticket out here and I ain't gonna let him ruin that for me." He still spoke to his brother but his eyes never left his father's. He could see them reflected in his father's glasses. They were cold, narrowed, determined. He just wished he could better see the gaze underneath them. 

"I ain't leaving, Pa. Maybe I'm not the millionaire you want, but I got a job, I got my own place and I'm a lot more successful in my line of work than I'd ever thought I'd be. I ain't a failure and I think that warrants at least a visit to my own damn house." He actually dared to stomp his foot on the ground, not as hard as he would have liked but enough to get his point across.

The silence that followed was deafening. Stanley's heart thudded in his chest and Ford swore he was going to faint if his mother didn't beat him to it. 

Filbrick hummed, though the sound wasn't angry. 

"Finally standing up for yourself," he grunted. "Good. How long are you two staying for?"

"Th-three days," Stanford stuttered out, still wondering how his brother was alive. 

Another hum from their father, accepting the answer. He returned to his chair and stared at the TV. They almost didn't hear him say, "Very well. You earned it."

It was the closest Stan had ever gotten to his father saying he was impressed. He crumbled to the floor, all his determination and strength of will fading into emotional exhaustion. His twin knelt by him, moved Stan's head onto his lap, and combed his fingers through his hair. He could hear his twin counting all six of them under his breath. 

"You gonna be alright, Stanley?" His mother's voice reached his ear as her hands cupped his larger one. 

He nodded, "Yeah, once the shock wears off and my heart remembers how to beat properly. Hooooly shit."

"You really are a man now," she whispered fondly, taking one hand away to stroke at his once chubby jaw. "A man who needs a shave. Go get freshened up for dinner, you two." They all shared a quiet chuckle before parting ways. 

——

Dinner had been... interesting. Filbrick was deadly quiet at the start but his wife spat out enough questions to make up for his silence. They were more directed at Stanford, catching up from their last call a few months ago, but Stan didn't complain, not really wanting questions about what he'd been up to.

"How are your studies going?"

"Beautifully. Though I did get a B in Advanced Calc III last semester and — God, it's still riling me up." Stan watched Ford's grip on his fork tighten and watched his lower lip puff out in his attempt to look angry but ending up just looking adorable. He might've stared just a little. 

"Still no girls you've got your eyes on?" 

Stan's eyes immediately cast down to his food again. 

"No, uhm," Ford cleared his throat, "I'd like to make sure I have a more secure income first. And a better place of living than with a roommate and my brother. No offense, Stanley." 

"Hey, no biggie. I gotcha. But listen, you find a gal you wanna test the waters with and I know a great food place to take Fidds out to so we can get outta your hair." He shot his brother a convincing wink and they both laughed, hopefully less awkwardly than it sounded. 

The sound tapered off as Stanley felt his father's scrutinizing gaze on him again, knowing that his eyes were narrowed thin behind his shades. 

"The hell kind of comment was that?" 

Stan shoveled more food into his mouth to prolong his answering. "What d'you mean, pa?" 

"Takin' a guy out to a damn restaurant — you some kinda fag?" He continued eating as if he wasn't insulting his son.

"Filbrick! You know I don't like that type of language!" 

Before his father could respond, Stan muttered, "Done worse than take a guy on a date."

"What was that, knucklehead?"

Ford was practically sweating bullets now, trying to find a way to get out of this quick spiral downward. He looked to his twin, silently begging him to calm down, to leave behind that part of his life. Almost two months he'd been clean now. He didn't need to bring it up.

Stanley ignored the look he was given by his brother, standing up slowly. "I said, I done worse than take a guy on a date. Oh man, the things I've done in the past couple a months. I ain't gonna list anything off cuz unlike you, I don't like talking filthy in front of Ma and I ain't angry enough to not care. But just know, what I did, I was damn good at. Only had one unsatisfied customer outta the whole lot of guys who came into my care. Got paid a ton too. Sometimes, I'd be making 200, 300 a night and all I had to do was open my mouth and lay on my back a couple times." He untucked the napkin his mother half shoved down his shirt collar and threw it on the plate of half finished food. Ford watched him for a minute, and relaxed just a little when he went the direction of their room and not the front door. He still flinched as the door was slammed shut, closed for the first time since they'd been alive.

Filbrick huffed but didn't go after him, surprising his other two family members immensely. He just resumed eating, finishing off the meal. Ford had lost his appetite. 

"You're just going to let that be?" His mother whispered, obviously still in shock that all this time, her little baby had been doing awful. She received no response. "Filbrick. Filbrick, you have to go talk to your son!" 

"My son is sitting at the table with me and I have little to say to him right now," he finally grunted out as he left the table for the living room again. His wife's mouth dropped in disbelief, though it immediately closed when she remembered her son's words, cheeks coloring so deeply, Ford would've sworn she'd put it on herself. 

Silence once more filled the air. 

"He-he didn't really," she lowered her voice for this, "sell his body, did he?"

Ford nodded, no longer ashamed or disappointed in his twin. If anything, he was upset with himself for not checking up on him, for not protecting him better. For letting it get that far. 

"Not at first. He tried to being a traveling salesman at first but I've seen his products and they're — they weren't the best designed. Good ideas, believe me! Stain removers, easier to take off band aids, every day items like pitchforks and bats! They were creative but so poorly executed he said he'd gotten banned from a lot of states. He ran out of ideas after a while, Mom, and he ran out of options. He-he didn't have a choice — " he stopped talking when he realized she was crying, palm to her lips, eyes tightly shut. 

"He used protection," he eventually mumbled, trying to cheer her up again. "He's clean still — I made him go to a lot of appointments when I found him in town. He's healthier now. Hasn't been doing it in almost two months. Two in January. He's got a stable job now and he was looking at a nice apartment space the other day to move into so he can try living on his own again. He's been doing so much better."

"That's good to hear," Her voice still sounded utterly crushed though. Stanford couldn't blame her. She'd reacted the same when it finally hit her that Stanley had been kicked out. That he was gone. Like she blamed herself. In a way, she could be blamed, but by the same logic, Ford could also be at fault. They'd both believed he'd be fine on his own and they'd both been proven horribly wrong. 

Ford left her after a brief hug and a promise to save the leftover food should the twins get hungry later. He trudged his heavily exhausted body to his old room, thankful that the door, while still closed, was unlocked. He shut it quietly behind him. 

The old room was familiar even without any lights on. Their mom had obviously convinced her husband not to change anything yet. He was honestly glad for it. It made walking to the bed with giant lump on it and curling up beside said lump so much easier. Ford toed off his shoes as he wrapped an arm around his twin's thick waist, joining him under the covers. Stan was naked, save for his socks. 

"How are you holding up? You feel okay?" Ford's voice was low and hushed in the air, his breath warm on the back of Stan's neck. Stan shivered a little, giving a slight nod. "That's not very convincing, Stanley."

"I'm good. Just... just a little numb, I guess. Kinda been an emotional night and I'm not too good with emotions, y'know."

"I know." Ford's hand stroked the curve of his twin's side, pressing feather light kisses to the nap of his neck once he'd gently pushed his hair out of the way. 

"Ma ain't mad right?"

"Not in the least bit. She's upset but that's directed more towards herself. I think she thinks she failed at being a good parent more often than she should." 

"It ain't her that's a failure in this family."

"Don't start that, Stanley," Ford's voice was still soft, still as soothing as the hand on Stan's skin. 

"Pa say anything after I left?"

"Stanley — " 

"Did he?" Stan shifted in Ford's arms, large eyes boring into Ford's own. 

A pause. Six fingers ran gently along a tightly set jaw, massaging it, relaxing it. "No. He didn't say-didn't say anything. Not a thing."

"You're lying," Stan's voice cracked. Ford could have sworn his heart did the same. 

The older twin chewed at his lower lip, debating silently with himself. Eventually, he sighed and pressed a kiss to Stan's furrowed brow. "He's basically disowned you now. If I was reading the room right." 

Stan let out a shuddering sigh, his eyes shutting. "One step forward, two steps back." 

Ford had nothing to say to that. He didn't have any words anymore, just the gentle stroke of his palm on his brother's back, his other hand awkwardly twining with Stan's between their bodies. 

They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other under the blankets like they were ten years old again and Stanley failed a major test. More than once Ford woke to the sound of soft sobs, sometimes his mother's as she checked on them from the doorway, but usually his brother's, muffled by his shirt and skin. He felt the tears though and the convulsions that tore through his shoulders from trying to hold it in. Each time, it was like he picked up where he'd left off, like he hadn't fallen asleep. Gentle hums and soft kisses and warm hands smoothing over the shaking skin of his brother.

Each time, when the shakes subdued, Stan would cling to Ford a little tighter and whisper "thanks, Ford," before slipping back into sleep. 

Each time, Ford would give him another forehead kiss and whisper back, "Any time, Lee."

——

The rest of their trip was civil at best. Stan and Ford picked up where their mom needed at the store. Cooking became a relatively all day thing, with the kids in the kitchen with their mother and Filbrick down in the shop, not one to turn down a business day. Holiday carols echoed through the house as, for a few hours, they each forgot their worries and cares. 

Filbrick refused to eat at the table that night if Stan stayed at it. Ford refused to let his brother leave to eat in their room alone. Their mother refused to let Filbrick leave and for once, he listened to her. In the end, they all stayed and ate in silence due to each family member's stubbornness. It was better than an argument though.

The next morning, Stan and Ford gathered what little belongings they'd brought and figured they should start heading back to Backupsmore territory. They'd intended on staying a while longer but everyone could agree that the tension in the air was becoming less like butter and more like cement. There were tears from their mother and goodbye hugs outside, away from the distasteful eye of their father. 

As they pulled away from each other, Stanley's eyes caught his mom's. 

"Stay safe, sweetie," she whispered, hand lingering on his cheek. She kissed his other cheek, sighing softly against his skin. "And if you ever, _ever_ need a little help again — "

"I think I'm gonna be okay this time, Ma," he murmured back, tears prickling his eyes again. 

"Don't interrupt. If you ever need help again, I know where your father keeps his trunk of money now and he doesn't keep as close as an eye on it as he used to now that it's just us. I would send you a few hundred in a heartbeat if you needed some." 

Stan sniffled as quietly as he could, trying not to be so moved by his mother's kindness. He was almost positive she would've done the same before, when he'd been kicked out, but he was too stubborn for that back then. Maybe now he'd be able to make the call if the new plan didn't work.

"When will we see you up here again?"

"Easter, maybe," Stanford chimed in, "If not then, then definitely our birthday."

"I'll have your presents waiting at the door." She smiled softly, sadly almost, just the way a mother would when she thought of her baby boys growing up and getting older. 

They finally said their farewells and in the side mirror of the car, Stan saw his mother stay outside until they were out of sight. His lower lip trembled though he denied it the moment Ford pointed it out. 

"I ain't sad. Damn glad to be outta that hellhole. Just.... gonna miss Ma a little, y'know?" 

Ford hummed and nodded his agreement, still trying to wake himself up. One more reason he hated sleeping. He could never seem to be fully functional until hours later.

"Maybe we can come up for new year's."

"By the time we got home, we'd have to leave again."

"Damn," Stanley yawned the word out, head tilting to rest against his shoulder. His legs relaxed out as far as they could in the space in front of his seat. 

"You can sleep a while longer, if you'd like. I know it's early."

"What about you? Not gonna get bored, are ya?" A sleepy chuckle followed the question that Ford echoed. 

"I'll be fine. If you aren't awake by lunch, I'll stop somewhere and get you up. Then you can drive for a while so I can nap, because honestly, I may as well get as much sleep as I can before the holiday break is over. You and I both know I won't be doing much of that once the semester starts up again." He laughed again, this time alone. 

"Sound like a plan, Stan?" Silence. "Stanley?" He waited until he was stopped at a stop sign to look over at his brother. A soft, loving smile graced his lips as he leaned over to press them against his twin's sleeping forehead. He continued the drive, actually looking forward to a little quiet time on his own.

The silence lasted until they were out of town before Stanley started snoring. He groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. 

"It's going to be a long ride home..." He smiled all the same though, letting his brother's sounds be the music that filled the air.

**Author's Note:**

> This, like most of my stories in this au, was a request, and if you'd like to request something or wanna nerd out with me about this au, send me an ask (anon or no) on my blog!  
> Sinful-shipping.tumblr.com


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